Flames were springing into life in his palms, strong and hungry, wanting to burn, burn on and on until everything burned-

“Shut the hell up, you damn superpowers,” he cursed, clenching his fists closed. The blue flames in his palms flared brightly for a second, before quietly surrendering to his commands.

God, the movies made it look so damn easy, like controlling fire was as simple as breathing when it fucking wasn’t. They were flames. They rebelled and scorched and burned and blazed. They were living without life, a beast without sentience, something you couldn’t tame, just change the flow of.

The day he’d gotten them, he’d played around with them. Shot a few fireballs into the air, tried to make a fire whip, letting the flames cover his body as he looked at the mirror in awe. He felt like a god, unstoppable, strong and fierce, more alive than he’d ever been.

Then...he burned himself.

He hadn’t even thought it was possible to hurt yourself with something that belonged to you in such a personal way. He’d just been messing around with it, trying to see how far it could go, how hot his flames could become. By this time, he’d had them for a month, and his ego made him believe he was powerful, a hero in the making. Forget Superman! When he came on the scene, people were gonna be looking at him! Action figures, posters, movie deals, he could see it all now!

He had watched as his fire started off as an angry red, then became a soft orange, and finally morphed into a bright yellow. For a whole minute, he had kept up the yellow flames, and thought it was his limit, and he was okay with it. It was a bit-a lot hotter than all his other flames, and he could actually feel the heat. But then he remembered-weren’t blue flames the hottest flames? The strongest? He’d seen it in comics and T.V. shows, the ones where the pyrokinetic developed a blue or black or green flame and then became the subsequent badass of the team.

If he had yellow flames, yeah, he’d be cool. People would ooh and ahh for a few months, a year if he was really cool. But after a while, people would compare him to other pyro’s, and one way or another, they’d point out that while his power was definitely strong, it just didn’t quite match up to theirs. And that irritated him to no end.

Already on the news and in the papers, there were stories about people who had powers. A soldier who could turn her skin into some kind of unbreakable armor. A kid firefighter who could use ice, and had single-handedly frozen the Chicago Wildfires. The superhuman scene was still fresh and new, so if he got on the train now with blue flames, and he’d go down in history!

So he pushed his flames, getting hotter and hotter, his clothes charring and turning to ash! He didn’t care! He was gonna be the absolute best! He could already see flickers of blue flame in the corners of his eyes. He could do it, he was almost there! All he had to do was push harder! With a roar like he’d seen countless anime and manga characters do, he turned his blaze into a damn inferno, burning the grass beneath his feet and incinerating anything within a ten-foot radius.

And then...he burned.

Despite his arrogance, he was actually reasonably smart. He did well in science and excelled in math, and looking at how his body worked, he theorized he was something like a human Bunsen burner, with each pore a tiny barrel and airhole, able to release an incredibly small flame.

After he’d discovered his flames, he’d noticed that the smell of his sweat was slightly toxic, and after taking a flammability test, he had realized his sweat had a composition similar to that of gasoline, a combination of various chemicals that made his sweat flammable, which his pores ignited with his fire. His skin was the metal container of the Bunsen burner, keeping all of it inside and contained unless he willed it, which granted him a very large amount of heat tolerance and resistance.

But that was it. Heat resistance. Not Fireproof Skin or Immunity. There was only a certain amount of heat he could control, and he had been teetering on the edge with his yellow flames.

But when his coveted blue flames appeared...it devoured him. That was when he realized he was no Superman. He was Icarus, an arrogant youth who tried to fly to the sun, and as such, he was burnt, both figuratively and literally.

The more he screamed in pain, calling for help, the more his blue flames grew, crackling with glee as they devoured him and the surrounding area, until the pain finally knocked him out, letting him fall into reassuring darkness

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

When he woke up, the forest he had used to practice his flames was ablaze with his blue fire. That was when he realized he was no hero. Just a kid, a jerk with a power he didn’t understand.

He was scarred for his arrogance. His arms, his back, his fingertips and even a patch of skin on the right side of his face were charred black. He couldn’t feel them anymore, no matter how hard he scratched and bled, wanting to be rid of the scars, the scars given to him by his curse-

Now he was on a train, leaving the city. He couldn’t show himself to his parents, not after this. Forget hero, he didn’t even classify as a human at this point. He was a freak, disgusting, monstrous-

“Everyone, hands up and wallets out, now,” a man said leisurely, standing up as he did so. When no one did as he said, he sighed and began to...change.

Fangs replaced teeth, his skin became a dark gunmetal gray, his brown hair streaked with grey became a vivid, scarlet red as his blue eyes became a slitted yellow.

“I won’t repeat myself,” he growled in a much deeper voice. “Wallets. Out. Now.”

A superhuman, a strong one at that. But he wasn’t being a hero. He was scaring people, using his power for his own gain. A villain.

But wasn’t he the same? A person who had planned to use his powers for his own gain? The only difference between him and the man robbing the train was the fact that his powers weren’t dangerous to himself. Maybe...maybe it’d be better if he kept quiet, stayed down and did nothing. A hero, a real hero, would handle this.

‘...you think you’re special?’

Wait, what was-

‘You have a power, the power to save, to help! And you’re just going take the cowards way out?!’

That’s not fair! I did my best, but my powers-

‘You played with a tool like it was a toy! Of course, you got hurt! You were arrogant, wanting to be a man when you were nothing but a child! Of course, I burned you! Do you think you can play with nature and have no repercussions?!

Wait, are you my flames? You did this to me?!

‘Of course fool! Power comes with cost and sacrifice, a toll you hadn’t paid! You wanted the strongest flames? You had to pay the highest toll!’

Why should I listen to you?! You hurt me!

‘You hurt yourself, playing God! I was given to you to help others, not be used as a path to fame and riches!’

Does it matter anymore? I’m a monster, and nothing can change that. Who’s gonna believe in a hero that looks like the devil?

‘...redeem yourself.’

What?

‘Redeem yourself...and I will heal you.’

Wait, how? You’re just fire, you burn things not heal-

The tips of his blackened fingers burst into green flames, burning through the bandages that covered them. With widening eyes, he watched as the black flakes fell to the floor, leaving healthy brown skin behind.

You...you can-

‘Redeem yourself, and I will heal you. Every time you help someone, do a good deed, save a life, a little of yourself comes back. I burnt you, but I can heal what I did. After all, phoenixes rise from the ashes that they become.’

Slowly, he rose to his feet, clenching his fists tightly as he did so. After he had burnt himself, he had lost control of his pyrokinesis, random bursts of flames he had to concentrate to keep quelled. But now-

Red flames sprang to life in his palms, quickly turning orange, before becoming the yellow blaze he had considered to be his limit. But now, he couldn’t feel a thing

His burns, the result of his fire, was the toll. To handle the strongest flames, you couldn’t remain the same. If you wanted to touch the sun, then you had to be ready to handle the heat.

“Oi! Didn’t you hear me? I said-oh.” the man stopped as he saw the flames in his palms. “Huh, a pyro. That’s new. Thought the only elemental was the ice kid from the Chicago Fires.”

The flames brightened, screeched, then became a cool, deadly blue.

“Fancy, but my skin’s like Fearless. Nothing’s gonna hurt me, not even fire, so you might as well sit your ass down and hand over your cash.”

He grinned at the challenge. “You wanna bet?”

The mugger laughed as he flashed his fangs. “Go ahead, kid! Let’s see what you got!”

“The names not kid.”

A second later, he was in front of the man, a hand full of broiling blue flames flame grabbing his face.

“It’s Phoenix. Now burn.”